Me, Myself, and Darien Fawkes
by Disgruntled Peony
Summary: Darien is captured by Arnaud, but that's only the beginning...


Title: Me, Myself, and Darien Fawkes  
Author: liz_Z  
E-mail: liz_Z@secret-agent.com  
Category: Action/Adventure  
Spoilers: Big ones for 'TOIM' and 'Brother's Keeper'. Spoilers for every episode Arnaud has been in, to some degree. Probably small ones for other episodes as well, but I haven't noticed them as much.  
Season/Sequel info: Takes place in the second season, after 'Brother's Keeper' but before 'Flash To Bang'.  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: They're not mine. If they were then believe me, I'd know it. And don't sue me, I'm flat broke. All I've got right now in the way of money is a handful of pennies, and not a very big handful at that.  
Author's notes: Man, Arnaud just won't leave me alone! I'm gonna have to do something about him. He's always trying to worm his way into my plot bunnies... and he succeeds a lot of the time...

  
  
"So where is this guy, anyway?" Darien asked, looking around the dark alley he was standing in and then glancing nervously over at Hobbes.

  
Hobbes sighed. "Be patient Fawkes, he'll be here. You don't need to ask every five minutes."

  
Darien rubbed the back of his neck, something that had become a nervous habit for him over the past year or so. "You said he was supposed to be here at nine o'clock. What time is it now?"

  
Hobbes glanced at his watch. "Eight fifty-six. He'll be here, don't worry." Darien looked around the alleyway again, a deep frown on his face. Something about this meeting didn't feel right. In his opinion, the whole meeting a complete stranger in a dark alley thing was very cliché. Of course, this guy had said he had information on Arnaud's whereabouts and was willing to give it to them if he was placed in the witness protection program, and Darien was all for finding out where Arnaud was hiding these days. But still, something about this just didn't feel right.

  
A few minutes later, footsteps rang out in the alleyway and a lone figure stepped into view, his features softly illuminated by the lights from the street that the alley opened up on. Hobbes checked his watch. "Nine o'clock. Right on time." He walked down the alley toward the man. Darien followed, a wary expression on his face. He wasn't about to let his guard down until this meeting was over.

  
"Hello gentlemen," the man standing in the lamplight said, "I'm here to deal."

  
Hobbes frowned. "What's the password?"

  
The man sighed, rolled his eyes, and said, "Mary had a little lamb, its fur was soft and cozy. And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to mosey."

  
Hobbes nodded in approval. He extended his right hand, saying, "I'm Agent Hobbes, this is Agent Fawkes."

  
The man took Hobbes' hand, shaking it firmly. "And I'm Matthew Zondervan. But let's skip the pleasantries, shall we? Do we have a deal?"

  
Darien crossed his arms, giving Zondervan a stern look. "You tell us where Arnaud is, and if we believe you then we'll have a deal."

  
Hobbes shot Darien a quick glare. "Mr. Zondervan, please excuse my partner, he's a little inexperienced when it comes to this sort of thing."

  
Zondervan smiled understandingly. "Don't worry, that's not a problem." Just then, Darien heard a sound in the alley. Zondervan continued speaking, but Darien paid him no mind. He looked back into the alley, but saw nothing. He quicksilvered his eyes just in case, but although he caught a faint glimmer of moonlight shining on a trashcan, he didn't see any sign of trouble. Still, he couldn't shake the eerie feeling that something was wrong here. He just wasn't sure what it was yet.

  
Darien was about to dismiss the sound as nothing when he heard it again, closer. And this time his quicksilvered eyes caught a glimmer of movement. He allowed his eyes to reappear and turned to Hobbes. "I'm just gonna check something out real quick, okay Hobbes?" Hobbes nodded impatiently, while Zondervan just raised an eyebrow. Darien shook his head and walked off toward where he'd heard the sound coming from.

  
Quicksilvering his eyes again so he could see better in the dark, he looked around the alley. He still couldn't see anything unusual... Then he saw a pink glow out of the corner of his eye. He tried to let out a warning yell to let Hobbes know about the danger, but he was cut off when something struck him hard on the back of his head and he fell to the ground, unconscious.  
  
**********  
  
Hobbes watched as Darien walked off into the alley and then turned back to Zondervan. "Look. We can guarantee you protection, but you might have to wait a few days while the people at the Witness Protection program get everything straight."

  
Zondervan shook his head. "Look, I need protection, and I need it now."

  
"We can assign some men to guard you, but-"

  
Zondervan shook his head again and interrupted Hobbes. "Come on, this is Arnaud we're talking about. Do you think a couple of men are going to be enough?"

  
Before Hobbes could answer he heard a loud yell coming from the direction of the alley. It was cut off abruptly, as if the person who'd been trying to yell had been knocked unconscious. Hobbes' stomach immediately leapt to his throat. "Fawkes?" He yelled anxiously, turning toward the alleyway and drawing his gun. As if in response, the sound of a gunshot rang out through the night. Zondervan slumped to the ground, a bullet-hole right in the middle of his forehead.

  
Hobbes took cover behind a nearby car, but no more shots were fired. After a few minutes he cautiously walked out into the open, and then went looking for Darien. He walked into the alley, looking around worriedly. Darien was nowhere to be seen, but his car keys were lying in the middle of the alley. Hobbes picked them up, looking around him. "Fawkes?" He was dismayed, but not at all surprised, when he received absolutely no answer.  
  
**********  
  
The first thing Darien noticed when he started to wake up was a couple of voices talking quietly nearby, a man and a woman. Slowly the fog lifted from his brain, and eventually he was able to distinguish what they were saying.

  
"Is the shot ready?" the man asked. Darien was positive that the man was Arnaud; the accent was unmistakable.

  
"Almost," the woman said in a slightly exasperated tone. Darien thought she was Doctor Rendell, although he wasn't as sure as he had been about Arnaud. After a moment the woman said, "Done."

  
"Alright then," Arnaud said, "Let's inject him." Immediately, Darien felt panic rise up within him as he realized they were probably talking about him. He didn't know what they were talking about with all this injection crap, but he wasn't in the mood to find out. His eyes flew open and he jerked upwards, trying to get away. However, he immediately began to feel dizzy as if his head was spinning, and he fell right off of the hospital bed he'd apparently been laying on moments earlier. He gasped as his head connected solidly with the floor.

  
Arnaud whirled around, a frown on his face. "He wasn't supposed to wake up yet!" he yelled angrily, running over and slamming Darien against the floor. Darien groaned; he already had the mother of all headaches, and having his head slammed against the floor wasn't helping any.

  
"Get offa me," He snarled, trying to break free of Arnaud's grasp.

  
"Quick!" Arnaud yelled as he struggled to hold Darien down on the ground, "Inject him!" Moments later Darien felt a needle pierce the skin on the back of his neck and burrow its way inside his skull. He didn't dare struggle then; he was afraid he'd break the needle off while it was inside his head, and he really didn't want to find out what that would feel like. A few moments later the needle was pulled back out and Darien renewed his struggle, managing to flip himself over so that he was facing the ceiling instead of the floor. He could see Doctor Rendell placing a now empty needle into a nearby sharps container.

  
Before he could think any more a sharp pain exploded in the back of his skull. It wasn't quicksilver madness, but it felt familiar all the same. Darien gasped, writhing on the floor. Arnaud stood up quickly, barely evading Darien's flailing limbs. Finally, once the pain passed, Darien felt exhausted. Within seconds he had passed out, sagging to the floor.  
  
**********  
  
Arnaud awoke suddenly, sitting up from the floor with a start. The first thing he realized was he could see himself again. He almost yelled with joy, but then he realized that he seemed to be a lot taller than he used to be. He frowned for a moment, but then he remembered why. He pulled himself to his feet and looked over at the real Arnaud, who was standing across the room with Doctor Rendell.

  
"I see the procedure worked," he said with a smile on his face. He turned to look in a nearby mirror. Just as he had expected, the face of Darien Fawkes looked back at him.

  
The real Arnaud smiled as well. "Worked like a charm." He leaned forward. "Now, let's get down to business, shall we?"  
  
**********  
  
Darien awoke with a start, sitting up on the ground in front of... his car? How had he gotten there? He couldn't remember... He looked around and realized he was lying in the Agency parking lot. Now that he thought about it, he could remember driving into the parking lot earlier, in the morning. But he couldn't remember driving away again, and the sun was just rising, which meant it was morning again.

  
Darien shook his head blearily. He couldn't remember anything about the night before. He and Hobbes had been going on a job of some kind and they'd taken Hobbes' van when they left, he knew that much. But he couldn't remember exactly what the job had been, and he couldn't remember much of anything else after that at all. He couldn't help but wonder if he hadn't stopped by a bar that night and gotten good and drunk. That would account for the memory loss and the dull headache that was manifesting itself so strongly.

  
Darien felt around in the pockets of his pants and jacket, looking for his car keys, but they were nowhere to be found. He shook his head and walked through the doors of the Agency. Maybe Hobbes could explain what had happened last night- unless he'd gotten drunk and had a hangover too, which would make the chances of Darien figuring out what had happened pretty much zilch.

  
After a long walk down the Agency halls Darien came to a stop outside the Official's office. He could hear loud yelling coming from inside. One voice sounded like Hobbes, the other voice was the Official's, and the two of them were in a very heated discussion. Darien walked into the office, wincing at all the yelling that was going on, and said in a rather loud voice, "Will everyone just shut up?"

  
Immediately the room fell silent. Hobbes whirled around and looked at Darien, a completely shocked expression on his face. The Official had a similar expression on his face, and Eberts, who was standing by the paper shredder, was staring blankly at Darien with his mouth hanging open.  
Darien gave everyone a confused look. "What?"

  
Hobbes walked over to Darien, eyeing him nervously. Darien stared back, raising his eyebrows at Hobbes' behavior. Hobbes reached out and poked Darien in the chest with one finger, and then pulled back in surprise when he actually made contact. He stared at Darien for a moment longer, and then suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Darien up in a crushing embrace.

  
Darien coughed a little, trying to pull himself out of Hobbes' arms. "Hobbes, I can't breathe."

  
Hobbes pulled back immediately, looking very embarrassed about what he had just done. "Sorry Fawkes, I'm just glad to see ya."

  
Darien shook his head, which was hurting more and more with each second that passed, and said, "I'm glad to see you too, but what in the world is going on around here?"

  
Hobbes' expression turned solemn. "Fawkes... You've been missing for three days."

  
Darien's mouth fell open in surprise. He'd been out of it for three whole days? He shook his head in disbelief. "Aw crap..."  
  
*********  
  
Claire looked at Darien's tattoo, a deep frown on her face. "You have one more segment used up here than you should," she said, looking down at Darien, who was sitting in his chair with his legs dangling off on both sides.

  
Darien thought for a moment, trying to pierce the dense fog that was still lurking in his brain, making it hard to think. After a minute he looked up. "Well, I think I remember quicksilvering my eyes for some reason."

  
Claire shook her head. "That still wouldn't be enough quicksilver usage to explain this," she said, indicating Darien's tattoo, which had eight red segments.

  
Darien sighed. "Well, I don't know what to tell you. I can't remember anything about the past three days."

  
Hobbes, who had been standing nearby listening to the exchange, leaned forward a little. "Not anything?"

  
Darien shook his head. "Nope, nothing." He rubbed the back of his neck, wincing at his headache, which he no longer fully attributed to the possibility of a hangover. He looked up at Claire, held out his wrist, and said, "Can I have my shot? Please?"

  
Claire gave Darien a suspicious look. "I don't know..."

  
Darien looked up at her exasperatedly. "Come on, Keep! I'm telling you, I have no idea where I've been the last few days. I feel like I have a world-class hangover, and the fact that I need a shot isn't helping any. Just give me my shot, please?"

  
Claire thought for a moment, and then nodded reluctantly. "All right. But on one condition."

  
Darien's brow wrinkled with impatience. "What do I have to do?"

  
"Tell me anything you remember as soon as you remember it."

  
Darien nodded. "Sure." He held out his arm again. "Now come on, give me my fix." Claire gave Darien his shot, ignoring the hiss of pain Darien made as she injected the counteragent into his bloodstream.

  
Darien immediately felt a difference. For a moment his headache flared up full strength, which caused him to hiss in pain just as much as the usual pain that he always felt when he got a shot of counteragent. But after a moment the pain receded and his head became suddenly much clearer. It was still a little hard to think, but the headache itself was gone. He smiled a little, looking over at Hobbes. "You know, Tylenol's got nothing on this stuff."

  
Hobbes returned the smile, albeit rather half-heartedly. "I'll remember that the next time I've got a headache."

  
Darien pulled himself up out of his chair. "So, what's on the agenda for the day?"

  
Hobbes looked over at Darien solemnly. "The fat man gave us the day off. Wanted to make sure you were doing okay."

  
Darien waved a hand dismissively as he walked out of the door to the Keeper's lab. "I'm fine." Still, a part of him wondered just how fine he was. He had the distinct feeling that something was wrong, that there was something hewas supposed to be picking up on but wasn't. A shiver ran down his spine as he stepped out into the hallway and headed toward the exit, fingering his car keys, which Hobbes had returned to him earlier. 

**********

  
Darien walked into his bedroom and dropped his jacket unceremoniously down on the bed. He walked into the adjoining bathroom and headed over to the shower, stripping off his clothes and turning on the showerhead. He stepped under the water, shivering as the cold spray pounded relentlessly on his chest. Then he leaned over and let the water drip down his hair, into his eyes and mouth, and dribble off of his nose and chin in tiny waterfalls.

  
After a few minutes of this he turned around and let the water drip down his back, closing his eyes and trying to remember what had happened to him in the past three days. Most of it was shrouded in a thick fog, although he got occasional flashes of memory. Nothing profound or particularly important, mostly just droning voices, but it was better than nothing. Still, it was nowhere near enough for his liking. He felt almost as if he'd been abducted by aliens.

  
Darien shook his head; he'd have to tell Hobbes about that in the morning. Darien Fawkes, alien abductee... If the aliens thought that by studying him they'd be able to get a better idea of humanity in general they were sorely mistaken. Of course, they might slow down their invasion if they thought that every human being came complete with an invisibility gland in his head and the potential to go insane and rip their flying saucers- as well as the aliens themselves- to shreds.

  
Darien shook his head, laughing a little at the thought, and stepped out of the shower, drying himself with a towel. Letting out a loud yawn, he walked out into his bedroom, dropped his towel to the floor, and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts. Then he climbed in bed, closed his eyes, and fell asleep...

  
He began to dream, images flashing through his mind at lightning quick speed. Kevin introducing Darien to Arnaud as a 'Swiss Doogie Howser', Kevin dying, Darien seeing what he thought was Kevin standing in the doorway of his aunt's room, Arnaud aiming his gun at Darien, smiling maliciously as he told Darien that Kevin was indeed dead and the whole thing had been a ruse, Arnaud holding an oxygen mask firmly to Darien's face, although the stuff coming out of it was definitely not oxygen, Arnaud with his head shaved, ready to have his own gland implanted while Darien looked on... and all in the strange black, white, and gray hues of quicksilver vision.  
  
**********  
  
Arnaud woke up slowly, relishing the fact that he could feel sheets on his body without a thin sheath of quicksilver worming its way in between. He still hadn't managed to get over the fact that he was visible, even though he was in the body of his greatest enemy and technically wasn't even really himself at all. The real Arnaud was back at his lab, continuing to try to solve the problem of his invisibility.

  
After Arnaud had seen Kevin come back in Darien's body he'd gone to extreme measures to find out how. Eventually he'd discovered the memory RNA trick and decided to use it himself, but with a little twist. He'd decided to inject his own RNA into Darien's head. So now, here Arnaud was, trapped in Darien's body. Although, technically he wasn't really Arnaud at all. More like a pseudo-Arnaud. That didn't matter, though; he still felt like himself, he hadn't been corrupted by Darien's inferior way of thinking. And now he could carry out his master plan.

  
Heaving a small sigh, Arnaud lifted himself from the bed. He looked down at the boxer shorts Darien had put on, shaking his head in disgust. He'd known Darien had bad taste, but black silk boxers with pink elephants on them? Where had Darien gotten them, a flea market? Oh well, he'd have to leave them on. Darien would be suspicious if he woke up in the morning and they were missing.

  
After searching the entire contents of Darien's wardrobe, Arnaud finally settled on an all-black outfit that Darien had no doubt used when committing his burglaries. A few minutes later he managed to find a black ski mask, which also seemed likely to be a leftover from Darien's criminal days, and pulled it over his head, mashing Darien's thick hair down onto his head like it should be. Arnaud shook his head again. He'd never understood why Darien preferred to have his hair sticking up in the air like an ornery clump of weeds.

  
Once he considered himself fully dressed, Arnaud glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked like a criminal all right, and that was fine with him. After all, if by some small chance he got caught, it wouldn't really be him that would have to spend the rest of his life in jail or a padded room.

  
He walked out of the bedroom, but first he stopped and fished Darien's car keys out of his jacket, which was lying on the floor at the foot of the bed. Once Arnaud found the keys he walked out of the apartment and headed for Darien's car, whistling idly to himself. He unlocked the car, climbed in, and drove off, headed for the Agency.  
  
**********  
  
Later, Arnaud pulled up a block away from the Agency. It would have been easier for him to pull up in the parking lot, but he knew that he stood a chance of being 'recognized' if he did that, and at this point in his plans he had no desire to be recognized in any way, shape, or form. Later that might not be a problem, but now it was essential that he not be discovered.

  
He walked the remaining block to the Agency building and, after making sure that no one was watching, snuck into the parking lot. He took a deep breath and, although it was the last thing he wanted to do, allowed the quicksilver flow over his body. He shuddered at the feeling of the quicksilver covering him, just like he remembered it doing for so many months now. It was all he could do to keep from letting the quicksilver fall off of him and rendering himself visible again.

  
He and the real Arnaud had spent three days training him to get proper control over the quicksilver, using up a shot of counteragent in the process. They had done their best to get the tattoo back to its proper number of segments to lower suspicion, but Arnaud doubted that they'd gotten the quicksilver back to the exact levels it should have been. Hopefully, not too big a deal had been made out of it.

  
Forcefully bringing his thoughts back into the present, Arnaud entered the Agency. He was not surprised to discover that security seemed to be the same as it had been when he had masqueraded as Eberts a few months ago. Nothing had changed, not even the guards. They were still as sleepy and dull-witted as before. Arnaud shook his head, trying to keep from laughing. This would be all too easy.

  
He walked down the hallways to the Keeper's lab, making sure he remembered where it was located correctly. Once he was sure, he smiled to himself. He knew Darien had a keycard, but he didn't need to get into the lab- yet. He turned around, heading back out of the building. Tomorrow night he would get what he had come for.

  
However, when he was about to round a corner, he smashed right into a guard who had just rounded the corner. Both of them fell to the floor, the quicksilver falling off of Arnaud as he landed. He scrambled to his feet, swearing loudly, and continued running around the corner and out of the building, leaving the guard lying on the ground wondering what in the world had just happened.

  
Arnaud rushed to where he'd hidden Darien's car, clambering in and starting it up as fast as possible. Only then did he realize that his right arm was very sore. He rubbed it, wincing. Apparently he'd fallen on it harder than he'd thought; he would probably have a very bad bruise the next time he woke up. Things had not gone according to plan, Arnaud thought with a frown. Darien would undoubtedly have a lot of questions to face in the morning. But at this point, Arnaud didn't see any way around it. He drove away, heading back toward Darien's apartment.  
  
**********  
  
The next morning Darien woke up with a very sore right arm. He wondered for a moment if he'd slept on it wrong, but when he moved it he changed his mind rather quickly. Pain shot up and down the limb, making Darien gasp. This was not your average slept-on-it-wrong pain. Darien threw off the covers and looked down at his arm; there was a big bruise on it that stretched from his shoulder almost down to his elbow. He frowned. How in the world had that happened? He didn't remember doing anything that would have caused it.

  
Then he looked further down his arm to his wrist- and the tattoo. His eyes widened and he paled a little, holding his wrist up in front of his face for closer inspection. His tattoo had four segments red. He shook his head. "Aw crap, this is NOT good..."  
  
**********  
  
"Darien Fawkes, what did you do last night?" Claire demanded, crossing her arms and giving Darien an angry glare.

  
Darien held up his hands, trying to think of a way to prove his innocence. "I took a shower and went to bed. That's all, I swear!"

  
Claire grabbed Darien's wrist and held it up angrily. "This says otherwise."

  
Darien shook his head fervently. "Claire, I have no idea what's going on here. I didn't use any quicksilver last night!"

  
Just then someone pounded loudly on the lab door. Claire walked over and opened it, and Hobbes practically ran into the room. He looked over at Darien and stopped, a confused look on his face. "Fawkes, what're you doing here? I thought you got your shot yesterday?"

  
Darien nodded. "I did. But something happened last night and I have three more segments red on my tattoo than I should." He held up his wrist to prove the point.

  
Hobbes frowned. "You didn't come over here last night, did you?"

  
Darien shook his head. "No."

  
"Well, someone did. A security guard walked right into him. Tall guy, black suit and a ski mask. I was coming in here to make sure nothing got stolen," Hobbes said, looking pointedly at Claire.

  
Claire shook her head. "Nope, everything's fine over here. But I think I know who it was."

  
Darien looked at Claire curiously and was about to ask who she was talking about, but then he realized what she was insinuating and began shaking his head fervently. "No, it wasn't me! I already told you, I went home, took a shower, and went to bed!"

  
Hobbes gave Darien a worried look. "You know Fawkes, you might've done it without realizing it."

  
Darien looked angrily at Hobbes. "Come on Hobbes, don't you start in on me too!" He looked over at Claire, who was crossing her arms and tapping her foot, and then at Hobbes, who was still looking a little worried. "I don't have to listen to this," he said, and walked out of the lab door.  
Hobbes sighed and sat down in the chair that was usually reserved for Darien, looking up at Claire. "You know, I'm getting kind of worried about Fawkes. He's been acting kind of weird since he got back."

  
Claire pulled up a chair and sat next to him, saying, "What do you think is wrong?"

  
Hobbes shrugged slightly. "I dunno, maybe he got abducted by aliens?" He smiled playfully to show he was joking, even though a part of him refused to fully dismiss the idea that Darien had been abducted. Maybe not by aliens, but it was quite possible that he had been taken by someone else. There was certainly no shortage of people who wanted to get their hands on Darien. The only question was, if they'd caught Darien, why had they let him go?

  
Claire smiled. "Personally, I find the idea of him being abducted by little green men from the planet Mars extremely unlikely." The twinkle in her eye made it clear that she was playing along.

  
"You're right. This sounds more like something the Grays would do," Hobbes said, his smile spreading into a grin. But it disappeared as worry and guilt set in once again. How could he be joking at a time like this? Darien could be in serious trouble, and here he was joking about aliens. He pulled himself to his feet. "Well, I'm gonna go check on Fawkes, make sure he's okay."

  
Claire nodded. "That's probably a good idea. And Bobby?"

  
"Yeah?"

  
"Do you think you could drop by his apartment this evening?"

  
Hobbes nodded. "No problem. I was thinking about doing that myself." With that he turned and walked out of the room, looking for Darien. It took several minutes of searching up and down the halls, but Hobbes finally found Darien leaning on a wall outside of the archives.

  
Darien straightened up as soon as he saw Hobbes coming down the hall, but Hobbes held up his hands in a placating manner. "Hey Fawkes, don't go getting spooked on me. I just wanna talk."

  
Darien gave Hobbes a suspicious look. "You're not going to accuse me of breaking into the building again?"

  
Hobbes shook his head, feeling extremely disappointed in himself for even thinking that Darien might have been involved in the break-in the night before. "No, I... Look, I'm sorry about that. It's just- well, you have to admit, there have been some pretty weird things going on lately."

  
Darien laughed bitterly. "And it's all been happening to me."

  
Hobbes leaned up against the wall beside Darien, trying to think of a way to offer Darien some support without scaring him off. "Look, I'm sorry about the other day with Zondervan."

  
Darien looked over at Hobbes. "Zondervan? What's a Zondervan?"

  
"Oh yeah, you don't remember him, do you?" Hobbes shook his head. "I wish I could figure out what happened that night. You just... disappeared."

  
Darien couldn't help but crack a smile at the double meaning of what Hobbes had said. "Umm, Hobbes, I disappear a lot."

  
Hobbes laughed. "You have a point there." But, like before, he wasn't able to keep his good humor for more than a few seconds before guilt descended on him again. "I'm sorry, Fawkes."

  
Darien shook his head, giving Hobbes a bemused look. "For what?" Hobbes just looked away. He couldn't bring himself to tell Darien that he felt he'd bailed on his partner, just when Fawkes needed him the most. He'd never been much for words, and he felt like if he said what he was thinking Fawkes might agree with him and that would just be too much for him to handle. Darien leaned closer to Hobbes, frowning. "Okay, what's wrong?" Hobbes ran a hand over his face, trying to clear his head. He was supposed to be checking if Darien was okay, not the other way around.

  
"Nothing's wrong with me," Hobbes said, giving Darien a look that pretty much said 'everything's fine, now shut up and leave me alone'.

  
Darien shrugged and backed off. "Okay, fine. Just checking." He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a little awkward, and said, "So, what's the job?"

  
Hobbes frowned. "Huh?"

  
"The job. It's Wednesday, isn't it?" Darien paused for a moment and then realized his mistake. "Oh yeah, I forgot I lost three days. It's Saturday, isn't it?" Hobbes nodded, smiling a little in spite of himself. Darien grinned and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Maybe losing three days isn't all bad. I didn't have to work."

  
"Lucky you. I spent those three days running around all of San Diego throwing powdered sugar in the air," Hobbes deadpanned. Darien laughed, and the two of them walked down the halls talking, any earlier traces of animosity forgotten.  
  
**********  
  
That night Arnaud went back to the Agency, once again dressed in Darien's black thief outfit. Tonight was the night, he thought, absently rubbing his sore arm. Security would probably have stepped up their watch a bit, since someone had broken in recently, but he still wasn't worried. The Agency wasn't too much to worry about in the security department, and even with an invisible man on their staff they hadn't thought to install any kind of thermal sensors.

  
Arnaud was fully equipped this time, carrying a duffle bag that had some things he would need, but also with plenty of room for him to fit other things inside it. He glanced at the tattoo on his wrist; there were six segments green. He'd have plenty of time to get in and out, if he was just careful to use the quicksilver sparingly.

  
He quicksilvered, finding it somewhat easier on his nerves this time than the last time. Still, he wasn't very comfortable with it. If it could have been avoided, he would have done so willingly. But there was no way around it that he could see, so he straightened his shoulders and tapped quietly on the Agency's front door. A guard stepped out, confused as to how he'd heard a knock when there was obviously no one there. When he walked back in he was stupid enough to leave the door to swing shut behind him, giving Arnaud the perfect opportunity to slip inside.

  
Arnaud quickly made his way down to the Keeper's lab and, using Darien's keycard, entered. Once he was in he reappeared and began to place any files and folders he found into his duffle bag. He also set up a hacking program on Claire's computer. After that, he quicksilvered again and headed down to the archives. Once there, he de-quicksilvered again and began to place any folders he found that had to do with quicksilver or the gland into his duffle bag.

  
Suddenly the door to the archives swung open and Hobbes walked in, a disappointed look on his face. "Fawkes, what do you think you're doing?" Arnaud didn't even bother trying to make an excuse. He charged at Hobbes, pushing the shorter man to the floor. Hobbes was too surprised to fight back as Arnaud slammed his head against a nearby file cabinet, rendering him unconscious. Then Arnaud finished grabbing the files and allowed the quicksilver to flow over him again, walking out of the room.

  
He made a quick stop at the Keeper's lab, not even bothering to de-quicksilver as he grabbed the disk that held the data it had gotten off of Claire's computer. Then he headed out of the Agency building, walking to Darien's car, which he had once again parked a block away from the building. He reappeared in front of the car, a smug smile in his face. He'd managed to pull off the robbery, even with the mistake he'd made the night before. He placed the duffle bag in the trunk of the car and then walked over to a nearby payphone.

  
Lifting the phone up and holding it to his ear, he dialed a number. On the second ring, it was picked up. Arnaud- the real Arnaud- answered. "Yes?"  
"I have it," the pseudo-Arnaud said, his smile growing wider.

  
"Good," Arnaud said. It was obvious from the tone of his voice that he was absolutely thrilled with the information.

  
"I'll meet you at the summer house in an hour and make the delivery." The pseudo-Arnaud glanced down at his tattoo and frowned. "Oh, and be sure to bring some counteragent with you. I've got eight segments red."

  
"Very well," the real Arnaud said, "The summer house it is then." Then he hung up the phone, leaving the pseudo-Arnaud to wonder why his flesh-and-blood counterpart had said nothing about bringing any counteragent. 

**********

  
Hobbes gradually floated back to consciousness. He tried to move, but instantly became very aware of the headache he seemed to have developed from being slammed into that file cabinet. He opened his eyes and sat up slowly, gingerly feeling the back of his head. Sure enough, he was developing a very nice bump. He pulled himself to his feet, rubbing his head and wondering what in the world Darien was up to this time.

  
Hobbes had gone to pay Darien a visit earlier in the evening, and had arrived just in time to see Darien driving away wearing his old thief outfit and carrying a duffle bag, something that made Hobbes immediately suspicious. He'd very carefully tailed Darien all the way to the Agency, and had quickly realized what was going on. After that, it was just a matter of finding out where in the building Darien was.

  
Hobbes had searched the Official's office first, but when Darien wasn't there he'd headed down to the archives. Sure enough, Darien had been there, stuffing files into that duffle like his life depended on it. After that, things were a little fuzzy in Hobbes' memory, but he distinctly remembered Darien attacking him. Why, Hobbes wasn't sure; Darien's eyes hadn't been red, so he wasn't quicksilver mad. But he wasn't acting normally, either.

  
Hobbes looked around at the chaotic state the archives were in and shook his head slowly. Neither the Official nor Eberts was going to be very thrilled about this. He turned and walked out of the archives, looking for the nearest phone. He hated to finger Darien as the person behind all this, but it was the only thing he could think to do under the circumstances. First he was going to call the Official, and then he was going to call Claire. He had the feeling that he was probably going to get a lecture from both of them.  
  
**********  
  
Arnaud De Fohn stood outside of his old summerhouse that the Agency had uncovered some time ago, waiting impatiently for the person he'd once thought of as Darien Fawkes and now thought of as Arnaud De Fake to show up with the files he'd stolen from the Agency. He knew there was a slight chance that the Agency was still watching this place, but he doubted it very highly. He hadn't come anywhere near it since the Agency discovered it all those months ago, and with the Agency's limited resources they'd probably stopped observing it a long time ago.

  
Finally, a car that Arnaud recognized as belonging to Darien pulled up about a hundred feet away from him. De Fake stepped out, carrying a duffle bag. Everything was going according to plan. Arnaud walked up to De Fake, a friendly smile on his face. "Ahh, right on time. Thank you for getting what I needed." He reached for the duffle, but De Fake pulled it away, keeping it out of Arnaud's reach.

  
"Do you have the counteragent?" he asked, giving Arnaud a suspicious look.

  
"I have the solution to your problem right here," Arnaud answered, patting a small bag he had in his right hand.

  
"Show me first," De Fake said, if anything even more suspicious than before.

  
Arnaud frowned. "Show me the papers, and I'll give you the solution to your problem."

  
De Fake laughed. "There's no way I'm giving you the papers now. That's not counteragent you have in that bag, is it?"

  
Arnaud frowned. "Very well then, we'll do this the hard way." He pulled out what he'd been hiding in the bag- a gun. He aimed it at De Fake and smiled nastily. "I guess I underestimated you."

  
De Fake nodded. "I am you, remember. I know how you think."

  
Arnaud sighed. "And, since you're me, I doubt very highly that the quicksilver files are in that duffle."

  
De Fake smiled and cocked his head to the left, dropping the duffle to the ground. It spilled open, revealing nothing but a bunch of packing peanuts. "We know each other so well."

  
Arnaud decided to dispense with the formalities; De Fake was proving to be much more irritating than he'd expected. "Where are the files?" he asked tersely, walking up to De Fake and aiming the gun at his chest.

  
"I left them at Fawkes' apartment," De Fake said, eyeing the gun nonchalantly.

  
"WHAT?" Arnaud yelled, unable to believe his ears. "Are you insane? They're sure to be discovered there!"

  
"Well, we could always go and get them," De Fake said, inclining his head toward Darien's car.

  
Arnaud just glared at De Fake for a moment, and then motioned toward Darien's car. "All right. Get in. But if you try anything I won't hesitate to put a bullet through your skull."

  
"I know," De Fake said, obediently climbing into the driver's side of the car. Arnaud walked around and climbed into the passenger's side, making sure that he kept his gun aimed squarely at De Fake's chest the whole time. De Fake started up the car and drove away, heading back toward Darien's apartment.  
  
**********  
  
Arnaud and the pseudo-Arnaud pulled up in front of Darien's apartment building. The pseudo-Arnaud got out first, closely followed by the real Arnaud, who still kept his gun aimed directly at the pseudo-Arnaud, although he had it hidden underneath his coat just in case they were seen. The pseudo-Arnaud walked into the building, followed closely by his flesh-and-blood counterpart.

  
Before long they were standing at the door to Darien's apartment. Arnaud motioned for the pseudo-Arnaud to open it. The pseudo-Arnaud fumbled with the keys as long as he could without raising Arnaud's suspicion. Then he reached down to unlock the door, but it was already unlocked. He frowned; he was sure he'd locked the door when he left. But he said nothing. He just opened the door and walked in. He immediately came face to face with the business end of Hobbes' gun.

  
"All right Fawkes, I don't know what's going on here, but..." Hobbes trailed off as he saw who was standing directly behind 'Darien'. He immediately adjusted his aim, and Arnaud immediately compensated by grabbing 'Darien' roughly and aiming his gun directly at 'Darien's' head.

  
"Put down the gun or he dies," Arnaud hissed. Hobbes frowned, but he lowered his gun. "Now drop it and kick it over to me." Hobbes did as he was told, giving Arnaud an icy-cold glare.

  
Hobbes growled in a menacing tone, "What're you up to now, Arnaud De Freak?"

  
Arnaud frowned. "You know, I'm really beginning to resent that nickname." He looked at 'Darien'. "Now, where are the papers?"

  
The pseudo-Arnaud looked down at Arnaud and said tersely, "I don't see much reason to disclose that information when you have a gun pointed at my head."

  
Hobbes' expression turned to one of confusion. "Fawkes, why're you talking like the telephone over here?"

  
"Because," the pseudo-Arnaud said resignedly, "I am the 'telephone', as you put it."

  
Hobbes looked at 'Darien' as if he'd sprouted another head. "What're you talking about?"

  
The real Arnaud rolled his eyes. "I don't have time for small-talk. Where are the files?"

  
The pseudo-Arnaud sighed. "If you'd lower the gun, I could show you."

  
Arnaud thought for a moment, weighing his options. Then he lowered the gun. As soon as the gun was no longer aiming at his head, the pseudo-Arnaud quicksilvered, leaning down, grabbing Hobbes' gun, and aiming it at the real Arnaud in one swift motion. Arnaud laughed and raised his gun again. "You forget, I can see you. My eyes are quicksilvered too, remember?"

  
"And you forget that I have a time-limit," the pseudo-Arnaud growled. "How long before I go quicksilver mad? Five minutes at most." He walked over to Hobbes, who was standing nearby. Then he reached out a hand and touched Hobbes, allowing the quicksilver to flow over him as well. He cocked his head to the left, smiling. "Hmm. It looks like that time has been cut in half." Then he allowed the quicksilver to flow down his leg, partially coating the floor. "And now we have even less time." Pretty soon, the quicksilver was flowing along almost the whole floor.

  
Then the pseudo-Arnaud allowed the quicksilver to fall away from his body, revealing his blood-red eyes and cruel smile. "Now, don't you wish you'd given me the counteragent when I asked for it?"

  
Arnaud frowned. "Now, now, let's not be hasty about this, we can still negotiate..."

  
The pseudo-Arnaud laughed and fired his gun, shooting Arnaud in the leg. Arnaud yelped and fell to the ground, pulling the trigger on his own gun, but his aim had been thrown off and the bullet merely embedded itself in the ceiling. The pseudo-Arnaud walked up to Arnaud and kicked away the gun, glaring down at him. "The time for negotiation is over. You saw to that," the pseudo-Arnaud said menacingly.

  
Before he could say any more, Hobbes tackled him from behind, knocking him to the ground. The real Arnaud immediately took advantage of the situation, pulling himself to his feet and limping out the door, leaving Hobbes and a very quicksilver mad pseudo-Arnaud to fight for control of Hobbes' gun.

  
The two men rolled back and forth on the floor, each trying to gain an advantage over the other. Finally the pseudo-Arnaud managed to come out on top, with one of his hands aiming the gun at Hobbes' head and the other hand in a choke-hold around Hobbes' throat. "Fawkes..." Hobbes groaned, trying in vain to break free.

  
The pseudo-Arnaud leaned down until he was only inches away from Hobbes' face. "I am not Darien Fawkes," he hissed, his red eyes sparkling with anger. "I hate Darien Fawkes! I am nothing like Darien Fawkes! And you," he said, his eyes gleaming with an eerie coldness that sent shivers down Hobbes' spine, "will never see Darien Fawkes again."

  
Hobbes' eyes narrowed in anger. "Somehow I doubt that," he grated out, grabbing the muzzle of his gun and pushing it away from his head while at the same time planting a knee squarely in the pseudo-Arnaud's groin. The pseudo-Arnaud crumpled to the floor, moaning. His hold on the gun loosened just enough that Hobbes was able to yank it from his grasp, roughly removing the hand that was latched around his throat as well. He pulled himself to his feet, aiming his gun at the pseudo-Arnaud's head.

  
The pseudo-Arnaud laughed at this. "You can't shoot me. I know you can't. Because somewhere, in here," he said, tapping his head, "your partner's still floating around. Quite a dream he's having right now, I'm sure."

  
Hobbes tightened his grip on his gun, giving the pseudo-Arnaud a menacing look. "If you don't shut up..."

  
"You'll what? Kick me? Bite me? Give me a paper cut?" The pseudo-Arnaud laughed again, shaking his head in amusement. "I'm not afraid of you."

  
Hobbes walked over and slammed the pseudo-Arnaud's head against the floor, flipping him over and slapping a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. "Okay pal, that's it. You and I are taking a trip down to the Keeper's lab. We're gonna perform a little exorcism, Simon Cole style."  
  
**********  
  
Ever since Hobbes had called Claire she'd been in her lab trying to prepare for any possible scenarios. After all, who knew what sort of state Darien might be in when he was brought back to the Agency? Still, Claire was caught by surprise when she heard Darien and Hobbes yelling in the hall. Or, to be more precise, Hobbes was yelling. Darien was spouting French obscenities.

  
Claire ran over and hit the button that opened the lab. Immediately Darien and Hobbes tumbled through the opening, sprawling out on the lab floor. Hobbes quickly worked himself into a position where he could keep Darien on the floor. Darien didn't appear to like this very much; he glared up at Hobbes and Claire with blood-red eyes and continued to holler French obscenities at the top of his lungs, doing everything he could think of to escape.  
"Claire, get the blue stuff!" Hobbes yelled loudly, trying to keep Darien from getting away. Claire immediately sprang into action, lunging for the needle she had filled with counteragent and placed out on a medical table for just this scenario.

  
"Hold him still!" Claire demanded. Hobbes managed to hold Darien still just long enough for Claire to insert the needle into his neck and inject the counteragent into his bloodstream. Darien let out a cry of pain and collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Claire looked over at Hobbes, a very irritated expression on her face. "Now, who taught him to swear in French?" She asked angrily, glaring at Hobbes.

  
"That wasn't Fawkes," Hobbes said, pulling himself to his feet, "That was Arnaud."

  
"What?" Claire asked, frowning in confusion.

  
"I think Arnaud did that thing with the memory stuff. Like Simon Cole and Kevin, only he stuck in his own stuff."

  
Claire paled. "Oh crap..."

  
"What's wrong?" Darien- the real Darien- asked, sitting up from the floor. He looked around in confusion. "Hey wait a second, how'd I get here? What's going on?" He looked up at Hobbes and Claire, confusion and fear clearly evident on his face.

  
Claire sighed. "Well, if what Bobby just told me is true, you have Arnaud's memory RNA in your head."

  
Darien paled even more than Claire had. "Aw CRAP!" he yelped, jumping to his feet so fast that he fell over and crashed into one of Claire's lab tables, scattering the equipment that had been on it everywhere.

  
Hobbes came over and placed a hand on Darien's shoulder. "Look Fawkes, you need to calm down-"

  
"Calm down?" Darien yelled, jerking away from Hobbes' arm. "Calm down? Arnaud stuck a clone of himself IN MY HEAD and you want me to calm down?" He paused for a moment, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. Once he considered himself sufficiently calm, he opened his eyes and fixed Claire with a desperate look. "Get him out. Please."

  
Claire gave Darien a solemn look. "I fully intend to." And with that, she walked over to one of her lab tables and began to gather the things to make an anti-peptide solution.

**********

  
"I'm ready," Claire announced, holding up the anti-peptide solution in one hand and a needle in the other. She then proceeded to fill the needle with the solution. Darien breathed a sigh of relief. It was almost over. But his breath caught in his throat as Claire turned toward him, brandishing the now full needle. It wasn't the needle itself that disturbed him so much. It was the swarm of spiders that he thought he saw crawling all over it.

  
"Umm, Claire?" Darien asked, eyeing the needle fearfully.

  
"Yes?" Claire replied absently, inspecting the needle to make sure there weren't any stray air bubbles left inside it. She seemed completely oblivious to the swarm of spiders crawling up and down the needle, making their way across her arm as well.

  
Darien swallowed hard. "Nothing." He squeezed his eyes shut and began repeating over and over to himself, "It's not real. It's not real." He knew the spiders he had seen must be a hallucination, the pseudo-Arnaud's last line of defense before he was destroyed. Still, Darien felt very uncomfortable about being injected with a needle that was covered in spiders, whether they were imaginary or not.

  
"Could you turn around, Darien?" Claire asked gently, her voice pulling Darien back to reality. He opened his eyes and looked up at Claire, but let out an involuntary yelp of fear and leapt to his feet as soon as he saw her. Instead of seeing Claire, Darien saw a giant spider. A part of him knew that this was just another hallucination, that it wasn't real, but another part of him was completely terrified by the sight before him. It was this part of him that reacted, and he began to back away from the spider-Claire that was standing before him.

  
"Darien, calm down, I'm not going to hurt you," the spider-Claire said, still brandishing that needle covered in little spider-lets. She began to walk slowly toward Darien, but he continued to back away, his eyes wide with fright.

  
"Leave me alone, just leave me alone," Darien said shakily. He suddenly turned and bolted toward the lab door, but when he was only halfway there another gigantic spider stepped in his way. Darien came to a stop, looking back and forth between the spider-Claire and what was undoubtedly a spider-Hobbes in an attempt to figure out which was the more dangerous.

  
"Fawkes, just take it easy, we're trying to help," the spider-Hobbes said, reaching out to put one of his spider-legs on Darien's shoulder. Darien shied away and tried again to run for the door, but the spider-Hobbes grabbed him and forced him to the floor.

  
"Turn him over," the spider-Claire said, her needle at the ready. The spider-Hobbes turned Darien over so that he was facing the floor. It wasn't an easy task; Darien fought as hard as he could. But eventually he ended up facing the floor, and then the spider-Claire plunged something into the back of his neck. Whether it was that needle or her fangs, Darien wasn't sure.  
  
**********  
  
Darien awoke suddenly, sitting up and gasping for breath. The memory of the spiders was still fresh in his mind. He looked around and discovered he was sitting on his chair, and that Hobbes and Claire were standing in a corner of the lab, conversing in hushed tones. Darien cleared his throat loudly and said, "So, did it work?"

  
Claire jumped a little and turned around, obviously startled. She walked over to Darien, smiled, and said, "Yes, it did."

  
Darien gave Claire a nervous look. "You sure?"

  
Claire's smile widened. "Positive."

  
Hobbes walked over and stood beside Darien as well. He was holding an icepack to his eye. Darien winced. "Who did that to you, me or Arnaud?"  


"Maybe a little of both," Hobbes said, giving Darien a pat on the shoulder with his free hand, "You elbowed me good right before Claire got that needle in your neck."

  
"Sorry," Darien muttered, looking down at the ground.

  
Hobbes gave Darien a friendly smile. "Come on Fawkes, it's all in the line of duty."

  
Darien shook his head. "No, it wasn't." He stood up and started to walk out of the lab.

  
Hobbes grabbed Darien gently by the shoulder, giving him a questioning look. "What's wrong?"

  
Darien gave Hobbes a half-hearted smile. "Nothing. I just need to go home and get some rest." Hobbes didn't look at all happy with this explanation, but he removed his hand from Darien's shoulder. Darien turned and walked out of the lab, leaving Claire and Hobbes alone again.

  
Hobbes sat down in Darien's chair, looked up at Claire, and said, "Claire, I need some advice."

  
Claire looked at Hobbes. "What sort of advice?"

  
"Well," Hobbes said, "I'm trying to decide whether or not I should follow Fawkes home. Make sure he's not gonna get in trouble or anything. I mean, he's probably really confused and stuff right now and..."

  
Claire smiled and shook her head. "Sorry, but I think this is something Darien needs to work through on his own. We helped him as best we could. The rest is up to him."

  
Hobbes thought for a moment and then reluctantly said, "Always do what the doctor orders." He stood up and started to walk out of the lab, but stopped after a moment and turned around. "One more question. What do I do about this?" he asked, removing the icepack and revealing the beginnings of a black eye.

  
Claire walked over, made a show of examining the injury, and said, "Just put more ice on it when you get home." Hobbes nodded, gave Claire one of his most charming smiles, and walked out of the lab. He paused for a moment in the hall, trying to decide whether to ignore what Claire had said and follow Darien anyway. Finally he made his decision and started walking toward the exit.  
  
**********  
  
Darien stood under his shower and allowed the water to drip down his back. He heaved a loud sigh. He had been washing himself for the past half hour, but he still couldn't get over the feeling that he had been contaminated somehow by Arnaud's temporary occupation of his body. Arnaud... Darien let out a yell of anger and punched his shower wall, barely even noticing the pain that came from this action. He was too upset to care.

  
Abruptly Darien decided he was done with his shower. He turned off the water and stepped out of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist purely out of habit. He walked back out into his bedroom and sat down on his bed, running a hand over his face. He should have known. He should have known that Arnaud had something to do with this from the start. He considered himself lucky this time; his friends had figured out what was going on and helped him before anything really bad had happened, at least to his knowledge. But, he thought sadly, what about next time?

  
Darien sighed and leaned back so he was lying down on his bed. He felt completely helpless. He had no control of his life, his mere presence was a danger to his friends, and now he had discovered that he could be exploited by his worst enemy in a way that made him even more of a danger. And there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

  
No. There was one thing he could do. Darien stood up and walked into the kitchen. He pulled open one of the drawers, revealing a set of very sharp kitchen knives. He pulled the largest one out of the drawer and stared at it. It would be so simple, just to place that knife against his wrist and push. Then he wouldn't be anyone's lab-rat anymore, he wouldn't have to worry about hurting anyone while he was quicksilver mad, and no one would be able to manipulate him ever again.

  
But he couldn't do it. Something in him still felt like he had something to live for, and he couldn't ignore that feeling. Just when he was about to put the knife down he heard a very loud pounding on his front door. He jumped in surprise and nicked his wrist slightly, causing a drop of blood to spill out on his skin. At that moment Hobbes quite literally kicked the door in, looking around the room in a panic.

  
Darien put down the knife, an irritated expression on his face. "Hobbes, what do you think you're doing?"

  
"What do you think YOU'RE doing?" Hobbes asked angrily, gesturing at the knife that Darien had been holding just moments before. He walked over and picked up the knife, glaring at Darien. "I'll take that." He walked over to the drawer with Darien's other kitchen knives in it and pulled it out of the cabinet. "These too." He walked over to the nearest window, opened it, and, after checking to make sure no one was standing below it, threw the drawer and its contents out of the window.

  
"Now," he said, turning back to Darien with a stern expression on his face, "Let's talk."

  
Darien gave Hobbes an irritated glare. "Can I get some pants on first?"

  
Hobbes gave Darien a suspicious look. "All right, but you stay out of that bathroom. I don't want you anywhere near a razor blade."

  
Darien scowled at Hobbes. "Hobbes, I have an electric razor."

  
Hobbes just fixed Darien with a stern glare. "You've got one minute. Then I come in after you." Darien rolled his eyes exasperatedly and walked back into his bedroom, dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of boxers. Then he walked back out into the kitchen. Hobbes handed him a nearby chair. "Sit."

  
Darien wasn't very happy with Hobbes for ordering him around, but he sat down, scowling stubbornly at the floor. Hobbes pulled up a chair and sat across from him. The two of them just sat there for a while, neither one saying a word, until finally Hobbes broke the silence. "Come on Fawkes, what were you thinking? Why would you even think about suicide?"

  
"Hobbes, I wasn't going to do it."

  
"Then why is your wrist bloody?" Hobbes asked, gesturing to the blood on Darien's wrist.

  
"When you knocked on the door you startled me and the knife slipped. I was about to put it down," Darien said exasperatedly.

  
Hobbes leaned forward and stared intently at Darien for a minute, trying to decipher if Darien was telling the truth or not. "All right, I believe you," he said after a while, leaning back in his chair, but he still kept his gaze focused on Darien. "But don't go brushing this off as nothing, 'cause it ain't."

  
"I won't," Darien said quietly. After a moment he stood up, walking over to his refrigerator. "Come on, you'd better get some ice on that eye. It's turning some very lovely shades of black and blue." He pulled an ice tray out of the freezer and started emptying it into a plastic bag, which, once full, he handed to Hobbes. Hobbes placed it on his eye, and Darien sat down again, grinning. "And you're paying for that drawer, you know."

  
Hobbes walked over and made a great show of looking out the window. "Nah, I think it survived its fall in mostly one piece."

  
Darien frowned. "Hey Hobbes, how'd you know to get up here right then? Right when I had the knife in my hand, I mean."

  
Hobbes' face took on a slightly sheepish expression. "Well, I was watching your apartment. Making sure you were okay and all that..."

  
Darien smiled a little. "Thanks." He pulled himself to his feet and walked over to Hobbes, giving him a mock-threatening look. "But if you ever spy on me again, I'll have to hurt you." 

  
"Don't worry, I won't do it unless I think it's absolutely necessary."

  
"Just what is 'absolutely necessary'?" Darien asked, glancing over at Hobbes.

  
"When you're injured, suicidal, or inviting a girlfriend over," Hobbes said jokingly, giving Darien a smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder. 

Suddenly he paled. "Uh oh."

  
"What?" Darien asked, giving Hobbes a worried look.

  
"The files. I forgot about the files," Hobbes muttered, shaking his head.

  
If anything, Darien looked more confused than before. "Files?"

  
"Yeah, the quicksilver files. The Arnaud in your head stole 'em."

  
Darien paled. "Aw crap, they could be anywhere by now..."

  
Hobbes shook his head. "Nah, they're somewhere in this apartment. We'd better find 'em."

  
Darien smiled. "So we're having an Easter Egg hunt?" Hobbes gave Darien a deadpan glare. Darien shrugged. "Well, I'm just saying..."

  
"Just look for the files, Fawkes."  
  
**********  
  
Nearly two hours later, Darien sat down on his bed, shaking his head in disgust. "Come on Hobbes, can't we start again after we get some sleep? The sun's rising, for crying out loud!"

  
"Fawkes, we have to find those files!" Hobbes said, sticking his head out of Darien's closet. "Did you check your bathroom?"

  
Darien sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes. Three times." He leaned back onto his bed and flopped his head down on the pillow. However, when he did this he heard a resounding crunch. He sat up, looking nervously at his pillow. Then he reached inside the pillowcase, feeling around. To his surprise he touched something that seemed to be some sort of plastic casing, about three eights of an inch thick. He pulled it out, looking at it curiously. It was a CD case; the front of it had been cracked by the impact of Darien's head. "Hey Hobbes, I found something," Darien said triumphantly.

  
Hobbes poked his head out of the closet again. "What've you got?"

  
"CD case," Darien said, holding the case up for Hobbes to see.

  
"Where'd you find that?" Hobbes asked curiously.

  
"In my pillow."

  
Hobbes stepped out of the closet, walking over to Darien's bed. "Okay, move." Darien did as he was told, looking more than a little confused. 

Hobbes moved Darien's pillow, revealing a large, rectangular hole that had been cut out of the mattress. Inside the hole were all the files Arnaud had stolen from the archives. "Jackpot," Hobbes said, a wide grin spreading across his face.

  
Darien frowned. "Perfect. Now I have to buy a new mattress."

  
"Yeah, but now you can get some rest, my friend."

  
"On what? The bed's ruined."

  
"Your couch isn't."

  
"Oh, come on," Darien grumbled, but he grabbed his pillow and a sheet and walked out of the bedroom, headed for his couch and some much-needed sleep. Hobbes shook his head and let out a loud yawn. He needed sleep at least as much as Darien did. He decided to go catch a nap in his van and pick up the files afterwards. And if the Official complained about him and Fawkes being late, Hobbes would gladly give the fat man a piece of his mind, as well as a fist in the face. As far as Hobbes was concerned, he and Fawkes had gone above and beyond the call of duty; he figured they deserved to be allowed to sleep in.

*********  
~Epilogue~  
*********

  
Arnaud sat in a large, plush chair, a deep scowl on his face. Even though he'd tended to it properly his leg had been bothering him all night, making it very difficult for him to sleep. Finally he'd decided it would be better if he just stayed up. So now he was staring at the walls with eyes that probably would have been bloodshot if they were visible, fuming silently.

  
His plan had failed. He knew that beyond a doubt. The Agency had undoubtedly discovered that he had placed his mRNA into Darien's head, and they had almost certainly taken measures to remove it. And now if he tried a similar plan again they would be ready for him because they'd know what sort of behavior to look for. Not that he intended to try it again in the first place; he had very quickly come to the conclusion that one of himself was quite enough for his tastes.

  
Just then he felt a pair of arms snake around him. He jumped in surprise, but quickly realized that it was only Doctor Rendell. He looked up at her and growled, "I've told you not to do that." Rendell said something that Arnaud assumed was an apology, but he didn't pay any attention to it. He was too busy trying to think of new ways to get those quicksilver files. And he would, too. Someday soon he would get his hands on those files, and he would solve the problem of his invisibility.

  
And, once he was visible again, he would have no more reason to leave Darien Fawkes alive.  


  
  
The End  


  
  
Ending notes, a.k.a. my thank-you list: Okay, first off I have to say thank you to my sister, who, although she can be annoying, can also be very sweet, and makes an excellent beta reader. I'd also like to send out a big thank you to Invision, my other beta reader, who is very enthusiastic in encouraging me to write my fics. :) And lastly I'd like to thank you, the readers. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. -- liz_Z 


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